Thailand’s Progressives Betray Ideals in Power Grab with Military Allies
Thailand, 2025: the headlines scream of strategic realignment, but squint and you see something closer to strategic self-immolation. The People’s Party’s backing of Bhumjaithai leader Anutin Charnvirakul for Prime Minister isn’t just a baffling political maneuver; it’s a flashing neon sign illuminating the chronic inability of Thai progressives to escape the gravity well of mutual distrust. We’re witnessing, in real-time, how a fragile democracy is being slowly suffocated, not by tanks in the streets, but by the relentless accumulation of grievances and perceived betrayals. It’s death by a thousand cuts, each inflicted by former allies.
The immediate facts are grim. Pheu Thai, after scrambling to lead a coalition government following the 2023 elections, saw its gambit to dissolve parliament thwarted by the Privy Council, a move Khaosod reports has landed the caretaker Prime Minister in legal hot water. But the real earthquake is the People’s Party — the “orange movement” — aligning with the “blue,” Bhumjaithai, a mainstay of the military-aligned establishment. This odd coupling secures Anutin the premiership. But the question isn’t how, but why. And at what potential cost?
Pause for a moment. To grasp the seemingly irrational nature of the People’s Party’s decision — essentially empowering a party that has fiercely defended the very laws the People’s Party vows to dismantle — we must go back. Thailand’s political trajectory resembles a manic-depressive cycle: fleeting moments of democratic hope punctuated by brutal military coups, each leaving behind deeper scars than the last. Consider the 2006 coup, justified under the banner of fighting corruption, yet ultimately paving the way for the 2014 takeover and the deeply undemocratic 2017 constitution, a key target for reform. The coups aren’t isolated incidents; they’re part of a recurring pattern of authoritarian intervention, creating a climate of fear and distrust that permeates all aspects of Thai political life.
This isn’t merely about policy disagreements; it’s about raw, visceral animosity, weaponized and exploited. As the activist Parit Chiwarak aptly observes:
I agree that Pheu Thai’s broken promise was very serious, and people will punish them. However, that’s not reason to join hands with Anutin and Bhumjaithai. Supporting them is like giving wings to a tiger—granting them full state power and resources as Prime Minister. After you vote for them, they will betray you and use that power against you, the People’s Party, and the entire democracy movement.
Chiwarak’s warning is a stark reminder of the dangers inherent in prioritizing short-term retribution over the long-term health of a nascent democracy. It’s a case study in how personal vendettas can hijack political strategy, leading to outcomes diametrically opposed to stated goals.
This situation echoes dynamics playing out in other polarized societies. As political scientist Pippa Norris argues in Cultural Backlash, deeply entrenched cultural grievances, often stemming from rapid social and economic changes, can be easily manipulated by political actors to create and exacerbate divisions. In Thailand, the fault lines are complex: urban vs. rural, royalist vs. republican, and generational divides all contribute to a highly combustible political environment.
Zooming out reveals the cold calculus driving the People’s Party: a gamble that they can wring meaningful concessions from Bhumjaithai, primarily on constitutional reform. The alleged agreement hinges on either dissolving parliament within months or initiating a constitutional amendment process leading to an elected assembly. But this agreement rests on the perilous assumption that Bhumjaithai will act in good faith, a premise viewed with deep skepticism by many People’s Party supporters, particularly those who have endured persecution under the draconian lèse-majesté laws.
In the end, the Thai situation exposes a chronic weakness in the country’s political DNA: the willingness to chase fleeting tactical advantages at the expense of building a durable, democratic foundation. The People’s Party, consumed by resentment toward Pheu Thai, may have inadvertently strengthened the very forces that perpetuate the cycle of repression. It’s a parable, not just for Thailand, but for any democracy struggling to navigate the treacherous currents of political fragmentation. The critical question now is not simply whether the gamble pays off, but whether the very act of making the bet has irrevocably altered the game itself. Have they created a new normal where even the pretense of ideological consistency is discarded, leaving behind only the naked pursuit of power?
